


You in That Dress (my thoughts I confess)

by tanyart



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Crossdressing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-24
Updated: 2012-11-24
Packaged: 2017-11-19 10:08:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/572134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tanyart/pseuds/tanyart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Connor and Lafayette crossdress for a mission and have a bit of fun afterwards.  No major spoilers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You in That Dress (my thoughts I confess)

**Author's Note:**

> For the kinkmeme! Title comes from [Come On Eileen](http://youtu.be/oSOSAHU2CLY), and the prompt is based off of the interactive dialogue in-game where Lafayette mentions crossdressing to escape France, heh.

Their rented room was provided by an inn whose owners were willing to take enough coin to avert their eyes and cover their ears against anything out of the ordinary from their patrons. Lafayette supposed they must have seen enough to not even bat an eye as he hustled Connor up the stairs, breathless from their run and stumbling over their skirts.  
  
He closed the door, opened it again to free the end of his snagged dress, and was at last able to bolt it shut. The rush from the escape was still coursing through his body, something akin to a victory on the battlefield, which was ridiculous; there had been no fight of any sort. Lafayette took a breath to calm himself, but he was unable to hold back a short, delighted laugh.   
  
“I believe that went rather well,” he announced, turning to Connor.  
  
Connor dragged the wig from his head – Lafayette knew he had not liked it from the start – and tossed it on the cot. He smiled, looking glad to be rid of it. “I admit I had my doubts at first.”  
  
“To be fair, the whole lot of them were very drunk,” Lafayette said. “We could have dress a pig in the same manner, and still they would have not noticed.”  
  
To his bafflement, Connor’s expression became visibly strained.   
  
“The pig would have objected more than I, believe me. But I suppose a pig would not have been able to lift this from a redcoat, drunk or not,” Connor said, producing a small packet of missives from his – brassiere, Lafayette assumed, since he had done the same with his own stolen papers.  
  
“Of course. I owe you a great deal for accompanying me,” he said, taking the packet. He tapped it against his chin, thoughtful, and caught the scent of the perfume Connor had used. He snorted through his nose and set the packet down on the table. Their disguises had been nothing if not thorough. “And I would also say that you had not objected as much as I suspected.”  
  
“It had to be done,” Connor said, striding towards the wardrobe where they had stashed their clothes.   
  
His pragmatic attitude did not surprise Lafayette in the least, but he had been shocked then to see Connor put on the dress with grim willingness, only narrowing his eyes a little bit when Lafayette had given him the wig.  
  
He watched Connor walk the length of the room, graceful in gait despite the weight of the dress. Connor moved just as he did wearing his warrior’s attire. Still, the robes did not carry themselves in the exact same way as the heavy dress and petticoat; occasionally Lafayette would catch Connor in a misstep, the tips of his heeled boots flashing under the hem as he hitched up his skirts when taking longer strides.   
  
It was a little different now, in comparison to only an hour ago where they had their night together, weaving through drunken throngs of redcoats in an overly crowded tavern. Connor had gone through the mission with his usual level of stoicism, unsmiling to deter anyone who thought to lay wandering hands on him, and firm in steering all unwanted advances away. But there was a smile on Connor’s face now, eyes very bright and hands animated in a restless manner that suggested he was likely feeling the same leftover energy Lafayette was experiencing. His voice, commenting on something Lafayette did not precisely catch at that moment, was colored with genuine mirth and laughter.   
  
It made all the difference to see Connor at ease, and how very rare it must be for anyone to see it.  
  
“What? Lafayette? I did not catch that.”  
  
Lafayette blinked. “I said; it must be so rare, to see you enjoying yourself so thoroughly.”   
  
Connor paused in removing his lace gloves to raise an eyebrow. He appeared mildly offended. “You make it sound as if I’ve no fun, ever, but-“  
  
“In a dress, I meant,” Lafayette laughed, coming to stand next to him. He pretended to eye his friend critically. “A flattering color, might I add. Dark blue, like midnight. It suits your complexion, though I am dismayed the rouge was an ill choice.”  
  
“It looked so very flattering on you, I had to try,” Connor said dryly, allowing Lafayette to playfully rub his cheek with a wet thumb. His gaze turned curious, as if he was observing Lafayette for the first time, which may as well have been the case. “But the crushed berries to stain your lips. It is a nice touch.”  
  
“Why, thank you. Desperate times call for desperate measures,” Lafayette said, moving to wipe Connor’s other cheek. He saw Connor’s hands tighten around the cream-colored lady gloves, wringing it slightly, though he did not move away. Uncomfortable, yes, but Lafayette was beginning to learn that there was a difference to what was Connor’s set boundaries for personal space and what was just plain simple awkwardness. Giving Connor’s cheek one last swipe, he stepped back and admired his work. “There you are, much better.”  
  
“Was the rogue truly that awful?” Connor asked, amused. He resumed unbuttoning the short coat of his dress.  
  
“For you, I prefer  _au naturale_ ,” Lafayette said, failing to mention that Connor’s cheeks were still quite red. He guessed it could have been from his vigorous rubbing, but the growing heat he had felt at his fingertips spoke otherwise. Suddenly conscious, he clasped his hands behind his back – or tried to – the complicated lace and ribbons tangled his fingers, no doubt staining the fabric with Connor’s rouge. He shook his head. “Unlike me, I’ve had to have my face painted to high heaven. Not very flattering, this nose, on a woman.”  
  
Connor snorted, abandoning his fruitless task of removing the rest of his dress since it had been Lafayette who helped him get it on. “It suits. And you still make a more tolerable woman on the eyes than I.”   
  
“Oh, I agree with all my heart,” Lafayette smirked, earning himself an exasperated nudge to the side. Even from a drunkard’s perspective, he supposed Connor may have appeared a little unconventional for a woman – too broad at the shoulders and tall, with rough hands and a masculine jaw that could not be softened with powder and blush. And yet—Lafayette remembered that Connor had drawn a certain amount appreciative attention during their infiltration, so he did not need to doubt that there was still something alluring about Connor, no matter what he wore.   
  
“Well, since you are so quick to agree then help me out of this so I may change back,” Connor said, crossing his arms and looking very much like a sullen child with his dress askew and hair disheveled from the wig.  
  
Alluring indeed. Lafayette laughed, taking off his own wig. It had grown heavy on his head, its petals and ribbons getting into his face every time he moved. He tossed the elaborate contraption to join Connor’s wig on the cot. “I never said you looked bad, Connor.”  
  
“If I thought I looked  _bad_ , I would have not done this,” Connor muttered, eyes darting momentarily to the top of Lafayette’s head.   
  
“Oh, being vain now, are we?” Lafayette asked, placing his hands on his waist and jutting his hip to the side, as he had seen many women do. The dress had a good effect for such gestures, certainly good enough to make Connor laugh.  
  
“I meant if I did not think I could pass, I would not have done it,” Connor explained, stopping short as Lafayette reached over to untie his neckcloth. After a moment, he tilted his head obligingly. “I, um, would have found another disguise.”  
  
“I do not doubt it,” Lafayette said, grabbing on to Connor’s shoulder to give it a reassuring squeeze. He let go and chuckled. “If your face had not been on posters all over town, perhaps you could have gone as my very handsome escort instead of a dubiously handsome woman, hm?”  
  
“A missed opportunity,” Connor said, rolling his eyes. He gently took away Lafayette’s hand and pulled off the neckcloth himself. “My heart bleeds.”  
  
“I can practically see it,” Lafayette said, tapping Connor’s chest, the low-cut lace tickling his knuckles. He watched, more than a little fascinated when the color in Connor’s face continued to rise. He was fairly sure he was blushing himself, purely by their close proximity. “Ah. Now turn around. I will undo the back laces.”  
  
Connor did not move. The neckcloth was practically in knots in his hands. He seemed unsure of what to do, despite being normally good at taking commands, if their shared experience on the battlefield was anything to go by.   
  
“Connor. If you are so keen about keeping the dress on, you only had to say,” Lafayette joked.  
  
Connor’s brow furrowed. “I… it is only that you are stepping on it,” he said lamely.   
  
“’Only’? Here I am thinking that it was perhaps my hands on your waist, my blatant staring, or my leaning in, practically breathing in your air,” Lafayette said, rushed. He was all at once relieved and bolstered when Connor smiled brightly in response. “I do not do this to be subtle, Connor. You must tell me if I am overstepping my boundaries.”  
  
“And you must tell me if you should like to flirt, or kiss, or whatever it is that you were hoping to-“ Connor began, bristling.  
  
Lafayette groaned. “ _Èvidemment_. Torturously slow undressing and suggestive lines were clearly not enough. Very well; Connor, you look uncommonly good in that dress, and, if it is not too much trouble, I would be much obliged if you would kiss me.”  
  
“Hm. Perhaps in writing.”   
  
“Oh no. Couldn’t chance two spies wearing dresses to lift  _that_  note,” Lafayette said, grinning as Connor quickly leaned forward to kiss him hard, all flustered uncertainty gone. He laughed, noting how Connor’s hands only made their way to hold the back of his neck or run through his short hair. Not once did they touch the ties of his dress; apparently Connor found skirts flattering on Lafayette as well.  
  
“Yes. It does not suit you, but you wear it well,” Connor replied thoughtfully when Lafayette asked. He looked pleased, pressing his body against him so that their dresses tangled in between their legs. “That, and I do not know how to get the top layer off without tearing it.”  
  
Lafayette took him by the arm, steering them to the cot while Connor attempted to lick the red stain from his lips. Angling his face away, he slowly pushed Connor down at the end of the bed, just one firm hand on his chest. “Would you call it a problem needing immediate action?”  
  
Connor relented, eyes sweeping over Lafayette and the dress as he eased into a laying position. He smiled, griped the hand that pushed him the rest of the way down and gave it a tug. “Not at all.”  
  
The skirts being no help at all in resisting, Lafayette willingly fell forward, laughing and kissing Connor thoroughly.   
  
“Then we had best keep them on.”


End file.
